


Don't Think

by Lefaym



Category: Doctor Who, Sarah Jane Adventures, Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-28
Updated: 2008-06-28
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefaym/pseuds/Lefaym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Don't think," she whispered into his ear. "It won't help anymore. We'll go insane if we think about it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Think

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to jo02 for the beta.
> 
> This was written upon seeing the preview for "The Stolen Earth".

"Don't think," she whispered into his ear. "It won't help anymore. We'll go insane if we think about it."

She didn't want to think about how they'd ended up here—separated from everyone, locked, due to their own stupidity, in a tiny enclosure (she wouldn't let herself call it a cell), clothing dumped unceremoniously in a corner as they both gave in to the need to do _something_, anything at all, other than listen to the distant sounds of battle and screeching mechanical voices.

He'd lifted her onto a ledge that ran around the room, and she used his body to distract her from the images that ran so persistently through her head: Luke screaming and falling lifeless to the ground as a beam of blue light hit his chest, or worse, held prisoner and tortured, as the Daleks attempted to harness his brilliant mind for their own vile purposes.

As his lips trailed down her neck, she wondered which images he was trying to purge from his own mind. Did he see the dark haired woman with big eyes lying dead on the floor? Or the neat, reserved young man—his lover, she suspected—chained and tortured, his pain used to ensure the obedience of others? _Gwen and Ianto_—she forced herself to remember their names, to give them that much respect, at least, even as she attempted to drive them from his thoughts.

_Don't think_, she reminded herself, and as his hand gently coaxed its way between her legs, she suddenly found that it was easy to let her mind go blank for a while, to lose herself in skin and touch and _life_. An odd surge of hope filled her as he pulled away from her to retrieve a condom from his coat pocket; even now, when all seemed lost, there was still something else against which they needed to protect themselves, just in case—just in case there was a future, after all.

She shuddered and bit down on his shoulder as he aligned himself against her. He paused a moment then, and she realised that he was waiting for a sign from her telling him to proceed. She wrapped her legs around him more tightly, hooking her feet behind his thighs, and gripped him tightly just above his hips, pulling him towards her, her mouth on his mouth, all heat, and sweat, and desperation.

His thrusts were shallow, at first, becoming deeper as she pressed against him. When he was fully inside her, they both became still, clinging to each other, as though there was nothing else left in the universe. And maybe there was nothing else left; for all she knew, they were the last two beings alive who were not driven solely by hatred and anger, and this—their bodies pressed together, hers enveloping his—this was the final act of human resistance, the last flame before the darkness.

She wondered what would happen if the Daleks found them like this; surely they would be incapable of recognising the act for what it was; with no concept of hope, or love, or fear, they'd see nothing more than the rutting of degenerate animals. Would they only need to fire once to kill both of them, entwined as they were? Or would the life-force that was in him protect her too, so long as they stayed there, wrapped around each other?

His teeth nipped at her ear, almost—but not quite—hard enough to be painful. "We're not supposed to think, remember?" he murmured. And with that, he began to move inside her, slowly, and she moved against him, gradually quickening their pace until there really was no room for any other thought, there was just flesh and friction, taste and smell and touch. The only image in her mind was that of their interlocking limbs, as they used each other to rebel against despair.

She wasn't sure how long they moved like that; minutes and seconds had no meaning. There was no past or future, there was only _now_, until finally climax broke over her, bringing a few long moments of oblivious relief, followed by regret that soon there would be nothing to hold her thoughts at bay. She clung to him tightly as he came inside her with a yell that turned into a sob half way.

Afterwards, they held each other lightly, still pressed close, their heads resting on each others' shoulders as the nightmare images of their loved ones—dead, dying, in pain—returned to them. There were no words of comfort they could offer; there was no sound now but their ragged breathing as they struggled to maintain control.

"They'll be okay," she said, her words hollow and raw. "They'll find us."

He pulled her closer, and ran a hand through her hair. "Don't think about it," he said.


End file.
